“All’s fair,” Penrith said with a grin. “Yvette was truly lovely, far too good for a reprobate like Zach.”
They passed a row of giggling husband-hunters, their fans and eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. Nick quickly averted his gaze lest they mistake him as willing prey.
“You know what you need, boy?” Penrith winked at one of the chaperones, who blushed furiously. “You need to find yourself a girl.” Penrith pointed Nick’s chin toward a heavily rouged woman standing near a potted palm in the corner, her dampened skirts clinging to her generously curved hips and thighs. “That one looks ripe for plucking.”
Nick lifted his chin free, determinedly headed for the card room and its brandy. Whiskey would be good, too. “Thank you, no.”
“You prefer boys? I know this private club that caters to—”
“No, that’s not necessary. What I want is—”
“Time to go,” Penrith abruptly said, and disappeared into the crowd so fast Nick almost thought he’d imagined their bizarre conversation.
“—a glass of brandy,” he said to the now empty space at his side.
Lady Hartwell suddenly stood in his path, a young woman at her heels in the international sign that meant danger to bachelors. Ah. Wonder if Penrith was avoiding the chit, or their hostess?
No doubt Lady Hartwell’s strained smile was from having to perform this introduction as part of her duties as hostess, when her own plain daughter had stirred nary a whiff of interest among eligible men during the Little Season. But Miss Hartwell had little to fear in the form of competition from the little brown wren at Lady Hartwell’s heel.
“Lord Sheffield, may I introduce you to Miss Harriet Chase?”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. Nick narrowed his eyes, fairly certain he’d never bedded the plain sparrow before him.
With the social niceties performed and the string quartet beginning to saw away on another tune, both ladies looked at him expectantly.
Nick cleared his throat. “Would you honor me with this dance, Miss, ah …”
“Chase,” she said with another vapid polite smile.
“Miss Chase.” Nick held out his arm, Miss Chase took it, and Lady Hartwell sailed off in a swirl of skirts, hostess duties done.
“You don’t remember me at all, do you, my lord?” Miss Chase said as soon as they’d taken their places on the dance floor.
A waltz. Nick mentally winced but kept his expression polite. Should he remember the chit?
“That’s all right,” she continued after barely a beat. “You were there to collect my friend Charlotte and take her to her brother. I doubt you had a thought to spare for two schoolgirls in the background.”
“You’re a friend of Charlie’s?”
She nodded, and Nick relaxed a tiny bit.
His relief seemed premature as she lowered her voice and angled closer to him. “I have a proposition for you, my lord.”
Nick leaned away. “I’m very flattered, miss, but I don’t bed wenches fresh out of the schoolroom.”
Twin spots of color bloomed high on her cheeks. “Allow me to rephrase that. I have need of your help to retrieve something that belonged to my father. And to yours.”
Ah, now Nick knew why the chit’s name seemed familiar. His father had served as a naval officer with a Chase. Sitting around the dinner table during the viscount’s leaves at home, the tales of adventure and Royal Navy’s glory at sea always included Giles Chase. The gunner’s mate had saved the viscount’s life early on in their service in His Majesty’s navy, and they’d been inseparable chums ever after. Even died together.
“What is this something to be retrieved, and from where?”
Miss Chase smiled. “Treasure. Something our fathers won in a card game but which was too large to bring back on their ship, so they hid it in Spain and planned to go back for it after the war.” The words tumbled from her lips, faster and faster. “I need your help to get to Spain—we can take your ship—find the treasure, then split it since it belonged equally to both our fathers. And since they’re gone, it now belongs to us. You and me. Jointly. You’ll have to front the expenses until we get the treasure, but I’ll repay you half out of my share as soon as we have the treasure in hand. Do we have an accord?”
Nick stopped in mid-step and cocked his head to one side. “You talk really fast.”
Harriet felt like stamping her foot. “Do we have an agreement, my lord? You help me retrieve what belongs to both of us, and I’ll reimburse you for your expenses in getting the treasure.”
He continued to stare at her with his head tilted to one side, as though she were an interesting bug under a magnifying glass.
